Arnold awoke to the sound of his alarm. He fumbled with the miniature football-shaped head until it stopped chirping his name. He blinked and wondered groggily where that annoying half-snorting, half-whistling noise was coming from. Then he remembered Helga was sleeping on his couch.

He sat up with a start and looked over at the snoring lump of blankets with a tuft of yellow hair sticking out. He barely suppressed a snort of laughter. Helga is actually kind of cute when she's sleeping, he thought. Then he immediately shook his head. I mean, not THAT kind of cute. Just cute like…like a puppy or something. Yeah, that's it. A puppy that chews your favorite shoes and then laughs at you about it…

He climbed out of bed and tiptoed over to the little sofa. It was Thursday, but he wondered if Helga was really up for going to school. No matter what she said, her parents had to be worried about her. Maybe she should just go home and have them tell the school she was sick. He reached out to wake her, but then hesitated. As obnoxious as her snoring was, she looked so comfortable there. She even had a tiny smile on her face. I'll just let her sleep for a little while longer. I have to get ready for school anyway…

He quietly gathered some clothes to put on and headed to the bathroom to change and brush his teeth. He'd leave Helga alone until he had gotten himself dressed and eaten breakfast. If she was still asleep, he'd have a chance to tell Grandpa what was going on without her getting angry. Grandpa could keep a secret.

...........................

"You mean you let your little friend with the one eyebrow stay here all night, and you didn't tell her parents?! Arnold, they're probably worried sick by now!"

"Shhh, Grandpa, not so loud! I know I probably should have called them, but…she was really upset, and I thought maybe…her parents might be the reason why. I couldn't makeher go home by herself in the middle of the night…"

"Well, you did what you thought was best, Short Man," his grandpa said with a sigh. "And maybe you were right. That Big Bob Pataki never struck me as father of the year. But still, she has to go home today. They might have put her on a missing persons list by now!"

"I know, Grandpa. Just…don't let her know you know she was here, okay? And by the way," he added, smiling, "I'm not supposed to tell you this, since she wasn't here and all, but she really liked your chocolate chip cookies."

"Oh, good! Lucky for her they weren't your grandma's special recipe, heh heh." He winked at Arnold. "Here, why don't you send her home with the rest of them? And tell her she's welcome to come over for more anytime."

"Sure, Grandpa. Thanks!" Arnold took the half-empty cookie tin and a plate of buttered toast with jam and scurried up the stairs to his room. He knocked lightly, just in case Helga was awake, but there was no response. He opened the door as quietly as he could with his hands full and stepped into the room.

Helga was still asleep, but she had stopped snoring. She had rolled over to the edge of the couch with her arm dangling off the side. She seemed to be mumbling something.

Arnold set the food on his bed and approached Helga curiously. Was she having a bad dream? Maybe he should wake her up…

Just then she nuzzled her face into the pillow and smiled in her sleep, making a contented noise. "Mmm, Arnold, your hair smells so nice… You're so kind and generous, letting me stay with you tonight…"

Arnold's mouth hung open dumbly. Did she just say my hair smells nice?

Oblivious to her audience, Helga giggled and murmured something indecipherable. Then suddenly, her brow furrowed and she made a noise that sounded almost like a groan.

"Don't make me go back there, Arnold. Please…no, don't send me away…I can't go back…no, please…Dad, no…"

Arnold watched, horrified, as Helga drew herself up into a tight ball, shielding her face with her arm and making a fearful whimpering sound. What exactly had happened the night before?? He couldn't stand watching her go through this…

"Helga! Helga!" He shook her as gently as he could. His voice came out in a hoarse whisper. "Helga, it's me! Wake up!"

Her arms flailed wildly when he touched her. "No! No! Get off me!!" But at least his shaking was effective. Her flailing brought her out of her nightmare and she sat up, dazed and breathing heavily, her panicked eyes looking around the room in bewilderment.

"Helga, it's okay! You're at my house, remember? You stayed here last night." Helga's wild eyes landed on him, and they seemed to come suddenly into focus.

"Arnold?" Her high-pitched voice sounded simultaneously frightened and relieved.

"You were having a nightmare," he added, as if to explain why he was sprawled on the floor rubbing the side of his head where she had unintentionally conked him with her elbow.

"Oh. Did I…hit you?" And more importantly, how did you know I was having a nightmare? Criminey, I hope I wasn't talking in my sleep…

Arnold was a little surprised by her question. It wasn't like her hitting him was anything new. "It's okay, Helga. It was an accident. I was trying to wake you up."

"Oh. S-sorry, Football Head," she said nervously, bringing her knees to her chest and tucking the blanket in around them.

"It's okay," he repeated. He was getting more and more confused. First she was admiring the smell of his hair, then she was trying to get away from something…then she was apologizing for hitting him? What was going on?

As if she suddenly realized how strange she was acting, Helga crossed her arms and scowled at him. "What am I apologizing to you for, anyway? You're the one who woke me up. You d-deserved what you got." She looked away as her voice faltered. Those words seemed to stick in her throat. Get it together, Pataki!

"Whatever you say, Helga," he grumbled. There was that familiar hostility he'd been missing…

Helga glared at him. She felt a surge of anger that she couldn't quite explain. "So you're not even gonna defend yourself, huh geek-bait? You're just gonna let me hit you and yell at you and not do anything about it?" Her face felt very hot.

"Look, Helga, it was an accident—even if you would have done it on purpose if you were awake. And even if you're taking it back now, you did apologize, so I accepted your apology. Can we just call a truce? I'm going to be late for school if we keep arguing."

"You're gonna be late for school? What about me?"

Arnold shot her a pointed look. "I thought you might not feel like going to school today. Since you had such a rough night."

Helga blushed fiercely. You don't know the half of it, bucko, she thought in frustration. The events of the previous night, from its nasty start to its blissful conclusion, flashed through her mind. She couldn't believe she'd been soaking his pajama shirt with her tears just hours ago. She'd never live it down…if only because she wouldn't let herself.

"I brought you some breakfast." Arnold gestured to the plate of toast on his bed. "And Gran-…I mean, I thought you might want to take home the rest of the cookies."

"Wow, cold toast and stale, burnt cookies. You sure know how to treat a gal," she griped. Arnold rolled his eyes.

"Look, I'm going to school. When you're ready to leave, you can show yourself out," he said irritably. Here he was, trying so hard to be nice to her, and as usual she was throwing it back in his face. How could he have thought she might change?

He stalked out of the room and shut the door forcefully behind him. He stood in the hallway for a minute, taking a deep breath. Abruptly, his mind replayed a few highlights from the previous 12 hours: Helga sprawled pitifully on his front steps, sobbing; Helga breaking down in tears when he hugged her; Helga's peaceful face contorting into an expression of fear as she slept, her arms coming up to shield her face from…from what? "Arnold, no, don't send me away…Dad, no…"

He closed his eyes and sighed. No matter how she was acting now, something was clearly wrong. She was afraid of something, or someone. She needed help, whether she wanted it or not. And like in her nightmare, he had sent her away. He turned and went back into his room.

"Helga, I—" He stopped short as he stared around the empty room. The plate was still on his bed, nothing left on it but crumbs. The cookie tin was gone. So was Helga.

"How did she…" he wondered aloud. Everything looked as it usually did except for the messy pile of blankets and pillows on his couch. He put a hand on the cushions absentmindedly. They were still warm.

Confused, and feeling more than a little bit guilty, he turned and left again, softly closing the door behind him.


A/N: So how did Helga get out of his room so fast? Simple: Helga is Batman. (Or she could just be hiding in the closet and Arnold is too discombobulated to think to check. You'll have to wait and see.) ^___^